Progressing to a higher level of poetry, back to Elizabethan England: John Donne’s Holy Sonnet XV, which is an amazing compression of Trinitarian and incarnational theology into a tight packet of carefully metered verse. (The apostrophes indicate elided syllables.)

Wilt thou love God, as he thee! then digest,
My Soul, this wholesome meditation,
How God the Spirit, by Angels waited on
In heaven, doth make his Temple in thy breast.
The Father having begot a Son most blest,
And still begetting, (for he ne’r begun)
Hath deigned to choose thee by adoption,
Coheir to’his glory,’and Sabbath’s endless rest.
And as a robb’d man, which by search doth find
His stol’n stuff sold, must lose or buy’it again:
The Son of glory came down, and was slain,
Us whom he’had made, and Satan stol’n, to unbind.
‘Twas much, that man was made like God before,
But, that God should be made like man, much more.